Mar. 2nd, 2009
Spring Break : Day 3
Mar. 2nd, 2009 08:30 pmHi ho! It's day three of the Great Spring Break Experiment and I'm already running out of things to do. I got caught up on some coursework yesterday, but today I've done bupkiss. Even TiVo senses my apathy and has refused to record anything worthwhile. So, like I always do in situations where I'm forced to depend on limited resources, I've been exploring my many and sundry side hobbies. Like making salads. Painting my nails. And browsing through hundreds of vintage photographs of short-sleeved nerds working at NASA's Mission Control Center:

( WARNING: SCIENCE CONTENT )
My family and I visited the Space Center when I was in the fifth grade. It was absolutely amazing: seeing all of those big computers, the screens and technology. We even got to see the pool where the astronauts train for weightlessness. My generation kind of got the short end of the stick when it came to the space program. Mir was a big deal when it launched, but public interest waned (especially because we couldn't trust those Ruskies with anything, let alone orbiting superstations with the ability to turn any American's brain into a fried egg) and routine spacewalks became just that. I still love the glamour that surrounded NASA in the 1960s. Even if it was just a bunch of paunchy rocket scientists sitting around a room, smoking pipes and punching buttons. There was some kind of undefinable sexiness to it.
I have not written a word of my short story yet. sl;aslkg;asg

( WARNING: SCIENCE CONTENT )
My family and I visited the Space Center when I was in the fifth grade. It was absolutely amazing: seeing all of those big computers, the screens and technology. We even got to see the pool where the astronauts train for weightlessness. My generation kind of got the short end of the stick when it came to the space program. Mir was a big deal when it launched, but public interest waned (especially because we couldn't trust those Ruskies with anything, let alone orbiting superstations with the ability to turn any American's brain into a fried egg) and routine spacewalks became just that. I still love the glamour that surrounded NASA in the 1960s. Even if it was just a bunch of paunchy rocket scientists sitting around a room, smoking pipes and punching buttons. There was some kind of undefinable sexiness to it.
I have not written a word of my short story yet. sl;aslkg;asg